


Vendredi Bizarre

by The_Lark



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 19:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lark/pseuds/The_Lark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valjean and Javert switch places for a day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bad Beginning

Jean Valjean climbed out of bed and went to the window to greet the day (and maybe check the yard for cops while he was there). "Ah," he sighed contentedly. "Another day NOT toiling my life away in some dank hole. Life is good."

Just then, he heard Toussaint knocking on the door. "Breakfast in f-f-five minutes!" the old woman announced.

"Coming!" Valjean headed down to the table, which was conspicuously deserted. "Cosette?" He glanced around, looking for his daughter. "Hey, Toussaint, where's my little sugarplum?"

"Hiding in her room, k-k-kissing that old piece of p-paper and giggling again." Toussaint rolled her eyes.

Valjean shrugged. "Well, whatever makes her happy, I guess…"

"M-m-monsieur Fauchelevant, have you ever considered getting that child some Ritalin?"

"Nonsense!" Valjean exclaimed. "My little girl is perfect."

"Yeah, right." Toussaint snickered under her breath. "If she's so perfect, why does she spend every night making out with that grungy-looking college boy in the backyard?"

Valjean leapt out of his chair and frantically jammed his fingers in his ears. "No! No, I won't listen!"

"Oh, c-c-come on!" the old woman persisted. "Don't tell me you've n-never n-noticed them out there!"

Valjean was humming very loudly in an attempt to drown her out. "I can't hear you! La dee da dee da la la la la…"

Toussaint sighed wearily. "I don't get p-p-paid nearly enough for this." She grabbed Valjean's shoulder and shook him roughly, in an attempt to snap him out of it. "M-monsieur-"

Valjean shook her off and darted under the table. "Can't hear you! La dee da dee da dee da dee da…hey, wait a minute." He noticed a stack of paper under one of the table's legs. "What's this?"

"Oh, just some junk mail I've been using to prop up that wobbly leg," replied Toussaint.

Valjean examined the envelopes closely. "But these are bills." He thumbed through them. "'Second Notice'…'Third Notice'…'We Know Where You Live'…'I Hope You Have Good Health Insurance!'" He gaped incredulously at Toussaint. "You stuck these under the table?"

"Well," Toussaint fired back defensively, "what d-d-do you expect when y-y-you hire a s-servant who can't read?"

Valjean shook his head and tugged on his coat. "Oh, never mind! I'll take care of it. I'll just go and get some of that money that I buried in the-er…uh, that is…" Unable to come up with a suitable save, he bolted out the door. "Bye!"

"Hmm," Toussaint muttered pensively. "M-m-maybe I should have l-let him know about that c-c-cop who's been watching the house with binoculars for the past couple of days. Ah, well," she shrugged, "it's probably nothing.

Meanwhile, in a tree across the street, Inspector Javert was peering through his trusty binoculars. "Heh heh heh," he cackled, "I've got him now." The inspector smirked evilly. "That's right, 24601, come on out of your ill-gotten dream house, oblivious to the fact that you shall soon be my prisoner once again." He reached into his pocket. "Now all I have to do is grab my trusty nightstick." He felt around in his empty pocket. "Wait, what happened to my nightstick?!

He suddenly noticed a little grey squirrel scampering across the branch in front of him, holding the prized club in its mouth. "Hey! Get back here, you miserable little rodent! Stealing an inspector's nightstick is a felony!" Holding onto the branch with one hand, he grabbed for the squirrel with the other. "I'll have behind bars quicker than you can say obss-aaaaaaaaaaaagh!" Pouncing on the squirrel, he lost his balance, and became tangled between two rather thorny branches. "Blast it all!" Narrowing his eyes, he shook his one free fist up at the squirrel. "You've made a powerful enemy, rodent."

The squirrel responded by scampering across Javert's face.

"ACH-ACH-ACHOOOOOO!" Javert thundered. "I order you to stop that this instant! ACHOOOOOO! You confounded creature-I'm allergic-ACHOO!-to animal fur! ACHOO! ACHOO! ACHOO! AAAAAAH!"

Valjean, who was passing by a few feet below the action, glanced around curiously for the source of the strange scream. "Is that a person in need I'm hearing?" On the spot, he dropped to his knees. "Oh Great and Merciful Lord, is it your divine will for me to assist this pitiful soul? Am I truly worthy of this opportunity for redemption? Or would-"

"Blast, man, just shut up and get me-ACHOO!-down already!"

"Certainly, my brother." Valjean rose and lifted the entangled Inspector out of the tree, brushing the leaves and twigs off of him. "We'll just get you…" He gasped as he got a good look at the policeman's face. "Javert!"

A frightening look of glee crept across Javert's red-eyed, runny-nosed face. "Valjean! Yes!" He whipped out his trusty handcuffs and seized the convict's wrists. "I've finally nabbed you, 24601! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Javert laughed maniacally.

"No!" Valjean's eyes welled up with tears. "Please, Inspector, don't take me away from my daughter! Her mother is dead and she won't have anyone at all if she loses me."

Javert quirked an eyebrow. "What about that lawyer fellow I saw her cuddling up to in the garden last night?"

Valjean just about exploded. "That's it! You're toast!" he scream, tackling Javert.

Javert positively glowed. "Yes!" the inspector cried triumphantly. "He's giving me an excuse to use physical force!" Lacking a proper club, he picked up a nearby stick and repeatedly battered the convict over the head with it. "You're under arrest! You have the right to remain silent! Anything you say can and will result in an all-expenses-paid trip to the guillotine!"

Valjean knocked the stick out of his hands. "Javert, you've got some real issues with aggression. Have you ever considered anger management therapy?"

Their impromptu wrestling match came to an abrupt halt as a flash of blinding white light suddenly appeared overhead. In the middle of the glow hovered an angel, looking down on the pair disapprovingly. "Gentlemen!" the angel shouted. "On your feet at once! Really, this childish violence is unworthy of you."

"Javert started it," Valjean defended, pointing accusingly at the inspector.

"That's enough, Valjean," the angel scolded sternly.

"How do you know my name?" Valjean wanted to know. "Who are you?"

"My name is Ted. I'm an angel," the angel replied nonchalantly.

Valjean brightened. "Has Almighty God heard my cries for help and sent you to deliver me out of the hands of this instrument of the oppressors?"

"What?" Javert spluttered. "How dare you?!"

Ted just shook his head. "No, Valjean."

"See?" Javert said smugly. "Told you. He's come to help me overpower you and bring you to justice in order to restore the balance of the universe."

Ted whacked him upside the head. "What are you idiots talking about? God just sent me to keep you two from ruining the flow of the story with your petty bickering. It's really starting to get on his nerves."

Valjean was struck dumb for a moment. "B-b-but I'm the good guy!"

Javert shoved him, disgusted. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You're a con. I'm the good guy."

"Oh, you are not," Valjean retorted.

"Am too!"

"Are not!"

"Am too!"

Ted whistled shrilly. "If you keep this up, neither of you will get to be the good guy."

Javert glared. Valjean sulked.

Ted began to pace in midair. "I think I'm starting to see the problem here. The root of your rivalry seems to be your lack of understanding for one another's motives." He snapped his fingers smartly. "Of course! What I need to do is have you two switch places. Then you'll be able to really see where the other guy is coming from."

"No!" Valjean and Javert cried in mutual horror.

"Yes! It'll work perfectly." Ted grinned. "And the Boss has promised me a new big-screen TV for my cloud-condo if I can get you two on civil terms." The angel blew his golden trumpet with a flourish. "See you boys later." The angel vanished, leaving a cloud of white mist behind him. When the mist finally cleared, Javert and Valjean were staring at each other in confusion.

"AAAAAAAAAAGH!" screamed the convict.

"AAAAAAAAAAGH!" screamed the inspector.

"You're in my body!" shrieked Valjean-in-Javert's-body.

"Ugh!" moaned Javert-in-Valjean's-body. "I'm Valjean! This is horrible!"

Meanwhile, Valjean-in-Javert's-body was feeling his new face curiously. "This face is so itchy! That's it-these sideburns are coming off right now." He ran off toward his house.

The displaced inspector ran after him menacingly. "Don't you dare touch my sideburns, 24601!"


	2. Valjean's Day

 

Halfway to the front door, Javert noticed a clock chiming eight somewhere down the street. "Damn! I'm late for work!

Valjean just laughed. "Oh, heaven forbid."

Javert glowered venomously. "This is serious, 24601. My twenty-year perfect attendance record is in jeapordy, here. I've got to get to the prefect's office." He glanced down at his temporary body. "But how? They'll arrest me on the spot. And then _you_ ' _ll_ be free to run amok." He sighed defeatedly. "There's only one solution."

"What?"

"You must go into the office, and pretend to be me." He reached over and pulled his badge out of Valjean's pocket. "Don't forget to put this on."

Valjean eyed the badge skeptically, as if he expected it to turn into a poisonous snake at any moment. "You're handing your badge over to me? You can't be serious."

Javert cringed. "Just take it and go, before I change my mind."

Valjean took the badge with a smile. "Happy to help, then." He took off down the street. "Take good care of Cosette for me!" Javert just flinched.

Valjean dashed through the streets of Paris, taking notice of all the uneasy glances and screams of terror people were sending his way. "Gosh, the inspector must not have many friends. Can't say as I'm surprised. Maybe if he was a little more upbeat, he wouldn't have this problem."

Valjean strode into the precinct, trying not to look like a hunted animal. As he searched for Javert's desk, a man who must have been the prefect came up to greet him. "Ah, good morning, Inspector Javert. You know, you were just seven seconds away from blowing your perfect attendance record."

"Right, right, sorry about that," mumbled Valjean uncertainly.

"So," the prefect continued cheerfully, "caught that convict of yours yet?"

A faint sheen of perspiration broke out on Valjean's forehead. "Um, no. Actually I just found out that he's…um…dead! Yep, that's right, all gone! No more 24601!"

The prefect patted him consolingly on the shoulder. "Wow, after all these years, huh? That's tough. Well," he gestured to a desk that must have belonged to the Inspector, "I guess you should get cracking on one of these other cases that have been piling up on your desk for the past few years." He picked up a random file, brushing away several years worth of dust and cobwebs. "Hm, this one here looks like it'd be right up your alley. 'The Case of the Demmed Elusive Pimpernel'."

"I think it's high time you updated those files, sir," replied Valjean.

"Oh." The prefect handed him another, slightly less dusty file. "Well, how about taking on Jondrette and Patron Minette, then?"

Valjean nodded. "Okay, why not?"

"That's the spirit, Javert!" He shoved the file into Valjean's hands. "I want them rotting in jail by lunch time, you hear?"

Valjean strolled out of the precinct, shuffling idly through the file. "Gorbeau House? Now, where is that? I need some directions." He hailed a passing gamin. "You there! Little boy?"

The gamin whirled around in surprise. "Hey, it's you! That rotten cop who boxed my ears the other day!" He picked a large rock up off the ground, taking careful aim. "Oh-ho, this is going to be _sweet_!"

Valjean stared pityingly at the grimy urchin. "Poor little fellow. His attitude problems are clearly caused by a lack of proper adult supervision." He gently patted the boy's head.

The gamin shot him a death glare. "Did you just call me 'little'? Oh, that's the last straw!" He prepared to fire his rock straight at the not-quite-inspector's skull.

"Wait!" Valjean protested. "Do you know the way to the Gorbeau tenement?"

"Yeah."

"Great! Could you show me the way?"

The gamin snorted contemptuously. "Why should I?"

"Well, I promised Javert's-uh, _my_ boss, that I'd have Jondrette rotting in jail by lunch time."

A wicked gleam appeared in the little gamin's eye. "Well! I'd be happy to help you then, good monsieur."

"What a nice young man. Thank you, Master, uh…?"

"Gavroche," the boy supplied. "Heh," he snickered, rubbing his hands together with glee. "This'll teach the old brute not to recognize his own kid. That's the last time I ever bust him out of prison."

"What was that, son?"

"Nothing, good inspector!" said Gavroche innocently. He led Valjean around a corner, and pointed out a run-down apartment complex. "That's it, right there."

"Goodbye, then!" Valjean grabbed Gavroche's hand and placed several large coins into it. "Here, son, why don't you go down to the carnival and have yourself some fun? A boy your age shouldn't be working on such a beautiful day."

Gavroche stared confusedly from the "inspector", to the money in his hand, back to the "inspector". "Javert, have you been drinking?"

But Valjean had already ducked into the tenement, and tapped one of the resident gamines on the shoulder. "Excuse me, Mademoiselle? I'm looking for the headquarters of Patron-Minette."

"Upstairs and to your right," the girl replied, sounding bored.

"Thank you so much, Mademoiselle…?"

"Thenardier-no, wait." The girl looked terribly confused. "It's Jondrette now. Or is it Fabantou? Oh, forget it!" She threw up her hands, grabbed Valjean, and dragged him up a flight of stairs to the den of Patron-Minette. "Daddy, there's a cop here to see you."

Thenardier smacked his forehead. "Eponine!"

Montparnasse rolled his eyes. "How many times have I told you, Eponine just ain't cut out for lookout duty."

"Shove it, pretty boy," snapped Eponine.

"Please quiet down, everyone." Valjean held up his hands authoritatively. "This is my first arrest and I want to make sure I get it right." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Let's see, how did that go?" He clamped a pair of handcuffs over Thenardier's wrists. "You have the right to remain…quiet? No, that's not right. Oh, for heaven's sake!" He unlocked the cuffs and tossed them aside. "Just forget it. I never have held with locking people up for their crimes anyway." He smiled kindly at Thenardier. "Do you promise not to do, uh, whatever it was that you did, again?"

Thenardier brightened. "Oh, yes sir, of course sir. I've learned my lesson, honest!" He attempted to cross his heart, but just wound up poking himself in the eye. "Ow."

"Well, okay." Valjean dumped a rather large amount of money into Thenardier's hands. "In that case, why don't you all go buy yourselves some candlesticks, and we'll just put this little incident behind us."

There was an enthusiastic chorus of agreement from the band of bandits. Valjean nodded approvingly. "Excellent." He reached into his pocket, pulling out his orders. "Looks like next on the agenda, we have…crushing the rebellion."

"You mean the Friends of the ABC?" Eponine supplied helpfully.

Valjean frowned. "Uh, I think so."

"Well, I was just headed to their hangout to see my boyfriend. I can show you the way." Eponine's eyes were sparkling. This cop was going to put her Marius in jail! And then she would come and spring him, and he'd be so impressed that he'd finally wake up and realize he loved her more than Cosette. How perfect!

"Thank you, dear." He waved goodbye to the thieves, who were all wearing the most angelic smiles they could muster. "Good day, my friends."

Eponine led Valjean down the street, to a dumpy little café. "This is it."

Valjean followed her inside. "Why, that boy is standing on the table. What on earth is he doing? He could fall and injure himself." He called out to the young man, who was giving an impassioned speech from his perch on the tabletop. "Young man? Young man!"

"Who said that?" The young revolutionary paused in mid-rant, glaring viciously at the fellow rebels scattered around him. "For the last time, you will address me as 'His Radiance, the Great Liberator'."

"I think Enjolras needs a vacation," one of the Amis whispered quietly to his friends. There was a soft murmur of agreement.

Enjolras' eyes settled on Valjean. "A police spy! Get him, boys!" Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Bahorel rushed Valjean, while the rest searched the place for something to tie him up with.

Valjean chuckled condescendingly. "My dear boy, I hate to have to tell you this, but up against my superhuman strength, you don't stand a chance." He moved to push away the hands pinning him to the floor, but to no avail. "Oh no, I forgot, I'm in that weakling inspector's body!"

Bahorel and Courfeyrac dragged their captive into a chair, while Enjolras tied his arms around it, "Take that, you miserable puppet of the aristocracy."

"Yeah," taunted Bahorel. "Let's see you keep us from bringing the country equality and freedom now!"

Valjean looked up at his captors curiously. "Is that what you're out to do? Bring equality and freedom to France?"

"Certainly," replied Enjolras.

"How splendid!" Valjean exclaimed. "It's wonderful to see some young people endeavoring to make positive changes in this world."

"You really think so?" said Enjolras, looking flattered.

"What a nice fellow," mused Combeferre.

"If only there were more cops like him," sighed Feuilly.

"Say," Enjolras broke in, "why don't we just let him go?"

The Amis smiled and nodded. Combeferre stepped forward to loosen Valjean's bonds. "You are free to go, Inspector."

Valjean beamed. "Thank you, kids. You're all right." He left the café, waving over his shoulder. "And good luck with your revolution!"


End file.
